


Peaches

by LunarC



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Daryl needs glasses, dabble fic, long sighted
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 17:33:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5635696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunarC/pseuds/LunarC
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Daryl can hit a walker from 30 paces between the eyes but he can't read a can right in front of his face and Rick finally figures out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peaches

Daryl has been squinting at the same can for about a minute and a half.

Rick knows, he’s been watching him, quietly sorting through the cans Glenn and Maggie had brought back on a run a few days previous. Around them, back in the cells, the group carries on, while they sit at the same table, marking out how much they have.

Usually this kind of book keeping is up to Hershel and Carol, but Carol’s sick and bed ridden and Hershel is at her side. Daryl is looking stressed, the way Rick is feeling with the short haired women laid up in bed and he keeps muttering bitterly to himself as he holds the can closer to his eyes, then further away.

After a while curiosity gets the best of Rick. 

“… You alright there?” He asks and Daryl doesn’t even look at him, clearly pissed off. He puts the can down. 

“I can’t fuckin’ read this writin’” He gripes, looks just about ready to throw the can at the world. “It’s too fuckin’ small.”

Daryl glares at it and Rick looks between Daryl and the can, he can feel the agitation rolling off Daryl in waves. He picks up the can, which is completely white with faded black writing on the front that clearly reads ‘Canned Tomatoes’.

He doesn’t say anything, just marks it down and puts it in the box while Daryl picks up another can, squinting at it again. Rick watches him out of the corner of his eye and can practically see Daryl’s hackles rising.

After another minute he slams the can down on the table, startling Maggie who was walking through on the way to the watch tower. She glances at Rick, while Daryl sits back fingers almost gouging marks into the wooden table he’s at. Rick gestures for Maggie to keep walking and she does so, scurrying out.

“… I’m not fuckin’ stupid.” Daryl spits.

“I know that,” Rick replies calmly. 

“… I can read.” 

“I know.”

“… There aren’t no pictures on ‘em.” He mutters, “Can usually tell what’s in it with pictures, ain’t none on this, could be fuck all. Could be canned gold. I can’t fuckin’ read the writin’-it’s too small.” He picks up the can, rolling it around in his hand and then slams it back onto the table, it’s corner dents. Rick turns to the other, scratching his chin, mulling over something he’d been thinking on for a while.

“… Hand me that for a second.”

Daryl hands it to him and Rick stands, he walks a few steps away from the table, Daryl’s eyes following him and stands a few paces away. He holds the can up, label facing the hunter, who has his arms crossed.

“… What does it say?”

“I don’t know! Weren’t you listenin’?” Daryl snaps. Rick shakes his head. 

“Try reading it from here.” He says. Daryl glares at him, like he’s out of his mind, then focuses on the writing, squinting. It only takes him a few seconds.

“… I dunno, Peaches, maybe.”

Rick smiles, turning the label to himself. Written in large bold writing is ‘canned peaches’ right across the front of the tin.

“… What’re you smilin’ about?” Daryl grumbles as Rick comes back to him, sitting down.

“When I was in high school I used to be friends with this kid, Gary. Real athletic type, hated books, could never read in front of the class, used to get headaches a lot when he’d study, that sort of thing.”

“Mm,” Daryl grunted impatiently.

“Anyway, ‘bout halfway through high school his parents finally caught on, took him to get his eyes tested. Turned out Gary wasn’t bad at reading,” Rick put the can down in front of Daryl, smiling still, “He was long sighted, needed glasses. Couldn’t see a damn thing in front of his face but he could toss a ball through a hoop from half a court away.”

Understanding dawned on Daryl and he turned to Rick, fixing him with strange look.

“Reckon that’s probably what you got.” Rick said. “You ever get your eyes tested?”

“No.” Daryl said dismissively.

“Probably what’s wrong then,” Rick said. “Ain’t nothing intellectual about it, just how you’re born.”

Daryl stared at Rick, then at the can in front of him, turning it over in his hands. Eventually his agitation seemed to lessen a little. 

“… So they’re peaches?” Daryl finally asked.

Rick smirked again, nodding.

“Yeah, they’re peaches.”

**Author's Note:**

> I love this theory so much. I needed to write my own little piece on it!  
> I might continue this and change the warnings, but for now it's just a little stand alone.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
